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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26824927">Proposition</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka'>yeaka</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek, Star Trek: Voyager</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Relationship, M/M, Vignette</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 09:41:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>864</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26824927</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Chakotay goes back to his quarters.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Chakotay/Vorik</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Proposition</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chakotay’s not the kind of man to complain over a gruelingly long shift, but he does feel the wear and tear as much as the rest of the battered bridge crew. By the time they’re finally through the nebula and finished pulling double duty, he’s glad to retire his seat to an eager ensign. He barely even nods to Kathryn on his way into the turbolift—he’s fading fast, like all of them, save for maybe Tuvok. But they can’t all have Vulcan stamina. Chakotay’s only human. </p><p>He’s sore and sorely ready for sleep, relieved to finally be outside his quarters. Then he’s walking straight through into the bedroom, toeing his shoes off on the way. </p><p>He pauses just over the threshold when he sees what’s waiting for him—a handsome engineer neatly perched on the very edge of his bed. Vorik has both hands folded in his lap, shoulders squared and posture exact—he’s rarely anything less than <i>perfect</i>. He has that Vulcan polish, even if he’s still young, still new, only an ensign that probably spent as long on the extended alpha shift as Chakotay did. B’Elanna must’ve let him out early, because somehow, he’s found the time to change and reach his commander’s bedroom.</p><p>Granted, he probably changed in Chakotay’s quarters, because Chakotay can’t imagine that Vorik willingly walked the halls of Voyager in only a thin red robe. The crisp material clings to his toned body like glistening silk, backlit under the lamplight over Chakotay’s pillows, the open view-ports adding to the mood. Chakotay doesn’t order the lights on any brighter. He can see enough, and what he sees, he <i>likes</i>.</p><p>He looks at the plush pink-green lips drawn in a thin line, waiting for a greeting, but Vorik offers nothing. So Chakotay muses first, “I see our relationship’s gotten a promotion.”</p><p>Vorik quirks one jet-black brow at the coy remark. He’s never been one for double-entendres, nor for dressing skimpily and preemptively climbing into Chakotay’s bed. He usually has to be coaxed there, after minutes, maybe hours, of gentle kisses and Chakotay’s hands rubbing soothing, tentative circles ever closer to the few slots of bare skin—Vorik’s exposed fingers or the smooth expanse of his broad chest as Chakotay works his uniform open. Chakotay hasn’t even whispered in his pointed ear this time, hasn’t lightly licked the shell and promised <i>emotional</i> pleasure. </p><p>Vorik pauses a long moment before answering, quiet but firm, “Someday, my <i>pon farr</i> will return, likely before we have made it home.” He says no more than that. It’s too soon—he won’t have it again already. There’s still time to prepare. </p><p>Chakotay prompts, “Yes...?” and waits.</p><p>Vorik shifts almost imperceptibly closer, his knees already poking over the edge. The slit of the robe is open along one of them, revealing pale skin and dark hair, all ripe flesh that Chakotay already longs to have his hands on. He’s been holding back too long, too much. He wanted to respect Vorik’s boundaries, his conservative culture, even their ranks, even though Chakotay’s a very human man rife with urges. It doesn’t help that he’s somehow garnered a gorgeous boyfriend with particularly talented hands. </p><p>Vorik runs his tongue along his lips, maybe to stall for time or perhaps to tempt Chakotay even more. Then he murmurs, “I wish to be ready this time.”</p><p>Like the whole ship’s tilted sideways, Chakotay starts moving, up to the edge of the bed, until Vorik’s bent knees are digging into his. He looks down at Vorik and says, because <i>someone</i> has to, “That’s a large thing to ask.” <i>Pon farr</i> is no simple matter. </p><p>Vorik looks right back into his eyes and answers, “I know.”</p><p>“You’re still young. We could still reach Vulcan—”</p><p>“I have thought about this at length, Commander. I believe you are a suitable mate for me. ...And I think I can be an excellent mate for you.”</p><p>Somehow, Chakotay has no doubt of that. He probably should. He should take some time to think on it, really mull over their future—he did when he first allowed himself to cross that line to date his underlings—in a quadrant where all he has is underlings and one worthy captain—but a full Vulcan bond is a very different thing, one that shouldn’t have come up for years. </p><p>Vorik looks up at Chakotay like he’s never been more ready for anything in his life, and it’s too tempting to give into that. </p><p>Chakotay’s hand reaches out of its own accord. His fingers curl under Vorik’s chin, tilting him up, thumb rising to press against his bottom lip and draw his pert mouth open. Vorik wordless obeys, body compliant but gaze burning hot. Chakotay admits, “I can’t promise anything yet.” Vorik’s eyes steel over, breath catching like he’s going to argue, <i>insist</i> that they should be together, prattle off all the ways that he can be everything Chakotay needs, but Chakotay silences all of it by finishing, “I am willing to test the waters, though.”</p><p>Then he leans in and kisses Vorik hard, pushing him back onto the bed and drawing his robe open, already knowing exactly where they’re headed.</p>
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